felt tip pens and galaxy bruises
by vampirecannibal
Summary: There are many strange things about Hermione Granger, but the three most prominent things are that she's a witch, she's important to the wizarding world and words, drawings and bruises keep appearing on her skin. soulmates au (pre romance) Hermione is the girl who lived
1. you're a witch, hermione granger

**01\. you're a witch, hermione granger**

For as long as Hermione Granger can remember, she's had words and drawings appear on her skin. But not just words and drawings; bruises and small slashes that ache and burn. When she finds out that this is not normal, she asks her Aunt Rosalie about it.

Aunt Rosalie tells her that she's one in a million - quite literally. Only about one in a million people are born with a singular soulmate and, in those cases, the soulmates will be intrinsically linked. What hurts one, hurts the other - what appears on one's skin, appears on the other.

When Aunt Rosalie sees the bruises, she knits her eyebrows and frowns. Hermione isn't entirely sure why, but she can understand well enough that bruises are bad. Maybe her soulmate needs something nice. So she grabs her markers and begins turning the bruise on her thigh into a galaxy.

There is no response for a long time, and Hermione's fine with that. She'll give her soulmate time. They might be surprised, after all. Hermione has never been one to write on her arms or do anything to get hurt much. She must have only gotten a few bruises and scrapes in all nine years of her life.

When her soulmate does finally write back, it's with the pain of some sort of sharp nub digging into her skin. Her soulmate has wonderful handwriting and it appears in a beautiful black ink. Hermione wonders if they're using a fountain pen.

Hermione keeps her soulmate updated on anything that could be considered interesting, which isn't a lot. That doesn't mean they don't have a lot to talk about. Apparently, ever since Hermione began drawing galaxies in bruises, they've become interested in space.

There's a lot of things they don't know - like how people have been to the moon or what spacecrafts and rockets are. Hermione thinks this is a bit odd, but she's happy to explain and they're happy to learn.

They try to tell each other their names, but they just come out smudged and illegible, so they exchange nicknames. Hermione tells her soulmate to call her Matilda because she's just read the book and thinks it's wonderful, and her soulmate tells her to call her -because at this point Hermione knows that her soulmate is a girl- Peony.

? ﾟﾌﾌ?

"_ You're a witch, Hermione Granger _."

The words echo in her head. Loud and resonant and oh so clear. They stick with her for weeks and she hardly dares to believe them even after going to Diagon Alley to get her supplies for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even after she's read all the textbooks. Even after she's _memorized _all the textbooks she can hardly believe it.

And as wonderful and amazing as it is, she almost doesn't want to.

Because now she knows how her parents died. Now she knows that she supposedly killed the greatest dark wizard of all time as a baby but only after her mother and father had died to protect her.

Hermione thinks she should be more upset about that information than she is. As distressing as the information is, it feels disconnected, almost unreal. As if it's completely separate and never involved her, despite it directly involving her.

She wants to talk to Peony about this. Quite a lot. But she's been warned that she isn't to let _anyone _know of the existence of the wizarding world. Not a single soul.

Peony does seem quite happy these days - she talks quite a bit about the school she's gotten into, though it's in even vaguer language than Hermione uses.

What they _do _reveal is that the elite boarding schools they are going to are both located in the Scottish Highlands, though that's the most detail they can get it of each other and, quite oddly, Hermione thinks, neither of them suggest finding a place to meet up. She's relieved, really. She doubts Hogwarts is anywhere near any muggle friendly areas and would hate to make up excuses. Peony is her first ever friend and she doesn't want to make up lies about why she can't see her.

When September first comes around, Hermione makes sure she has a working felt tip pen in her pocket along with an extra just in case it runs out of ink. She's got a long ride from London to Hogwarts and she knows Peony is going to be spending much of the day in transit to her school as well.

She also makes sure that she has a few books at the top of her trunk because she knows Peony has some friends going to the same school as her and she'll probably want to talk to them.

"Have you got all your things?" Aunt Rosalie asks before they leave. "All your books and robes and... quills and things?"

"Yes, Aunt Rosalie," Hermione reassures her. "I double checked this morning."

"Good. Good. Well, off to King's Cross, I suppose."

Hermione is giddy and excited the whole drive from her aunt's flat to the train station and stays giddy and excited until they can't find the platform she's supposed to be departing from - Platform nine and three quarters.

"Well, that is odd," Aunt Rosalie says as she inspects the ticket. "Perhaps we should contact that Professor McGonagall somehow..."

"But we don't have an owl," Hermione points out. "Maybe if we just-"

"-packed with muggles, of course-"

Hermione whips around and immediately spots the speaker - a plump woman with bright red hair, leading four boys and a young girl, all with the same bright red hair. Each of the boys is pushing a trunk and one of them had an owl.

She immediately pushes towards them and, heart hammering, she listens in.

"Now, what's the platform number?" the mother asks.

"Nine and three quarters!" pipes up the girl. "Mum, can't I go... please, mum?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

The oldest of the boys marches towards the ticket barrier between platforms nine and ten. Hermione makes sure to keep an eye on him as he moves then, just as he was reaching the wall, a crowd of tourists comes swarming in between him and Hermione and then, once they've cleared away, the boy is gone.

"Fred, you next," the woman says, nudging one of her sons.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," he says. "Honestly, woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear-"

"Only joking, I am Fred," he says, then walks forward and disappears.

Then the third brother does the same and Hermione realizes that they've walked _through _the barrier.

She turns to Aunt Rosalie and informs her of this.

"Right," her aunt says, looking somewhat uneasy, "well, you go on ahead, I don't think I'll be going through. Now, you have a wonderful year, Hermione." She ruffles Hermione's hair.

"Bye, Aunt Rosalie," Hermione says.

"Bye, make friends, have fun."

Hermione nods and pushes her trunk for the ticket barrier - the family of redheads has gone by now so her path is clear. She walks quickly, trying not to think of the fact that she's about to run right into a very solid looking ticket barrier.

She doesn't think about the fact that perhaps she has to truly and fully believe that she will pass through the barrier and even the slightest shred of a doubt that it doesn't work will make it _not _work. She may have memorized all of her textbooks, but that doesn't mean she knows for sure that magic _doesn't _work like that, for all she knows-

And then she's through the barrier.

A scarlet steam engine is waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead says _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock _. Behind Hermione is a wrought-iron archway where the ticket box had been with the words _Platform Nine and Three Quarters _on it.

Smoke from the train curls over the heads of the chattering crowd, and cats of every colour wander here and there between legs while all sorts of owls hoot from cages.

The first few carriages are already packed with students, some hang out from the windows to talk to their families, some fight over seats.

Hermione pulls her trunk into the train and begins pushing it down the corridor to find an empty compartment.

As she walks, she begins to notice that, while many are dressed in cloaks, just as many are in casual muggle clothes - jeans and t-shirts for the most part. She can't wait to find a seat and pull her black school robes on over her clothes.

She finds an empty compartment and promptly opens up her trunk and grabs her robes. She throws them on and can't help looking at her dim reflection in the glass door. Hermione thinks she looks wonderful - it's amazing, like everything she's ever wanted.

Snaking her hand to her jean pockets, she grabs her pens and places them in her robe pockets instead, save for one, which she keeps in hand as she takes her seat.

_I've boarded my train! _

She adds a cute little smiley face to the end of her message and pockets her pen.

? ﾟﾌﾌ?

Shortly after noon when a witch with a trolley full of wizards sweets stops by, a round faced, tearful boy knocks on the compartment door and opens it.

"Sorry," he says, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'm afraid not, but I can help you look, if you'd like."

The boy seems to cheer up a bit at this. "Would you?"

"Of course," Hermione says as she gets to her feet. "I'm Hermione Granger."

The boy gasps. "You are? Gran said you'd probably be starting Hogwarts soon but I never thought it'd be this year... wow. Er, I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you, Neville," she extends a hand, smiling widely, but she withdraws her hand almost immediately as the now familiar sensation of a fountain tip pen etches into her arm. She winces, but stays smiling.

"Er, are you alright?" Neville asked. It seems he had noticed the wince.

"Never been better," Hermione chirps. "Now, let's find your toad."

? ﾟﾌﾌ?

They don't find Neville's toad, but she gets to meet a lot of people. Some are very nice, but others are _extremely _unpleasant.

When she checks her arm, she sees that Peony has boarded her train as well and has wished her good luck. She had drawn a few stars and rainbows as well. Hermione writes back to tell her good luck as well and doodles a wonky little star.

Hogwarts castle is grand - marvelous - wonderful - amazing - more than Hermione had ever hoped for. The ceilings are high, the staircases move, the portraits are _alive _, ghosts float through walls and floating candles illuminate every corner of the place far better than they should be able to.

Professor McGonagall is the stern witch who introduced Hermione to magic and is the same stern witch who guides the first years to the Great Hall and presents them with a hat. A singing hat. A talking singing hat that sees into their minds to decide which house you go into.

When Hermione is called up to put on the Sorting Hat the Great Hall erupts with sound. Whispers spread like wildfire and heads turn to stare. Hermione can feel the blood draining from her face as she sits on the three legged stool. Her hands shake and sweat as she thinks of the absolute worst possibilities that could follow.

The hat could laugh her out of the school, could decide she belongs nowhere, tell everyone that no, she's not actually magic and is in fact so pathetic to have never had a friend in her life and that she should never have a friend.

And then the hat covers her eyes and she sees nothing and her mind suddenly goes blank.

"_ Hmm _," says a small voice in the back of her head. " _Difficult. Very difficult. An excellent mind, spectacular even. Plenty of loyalty and talent. Hmm... Where shall I put you? _"

Hermione balls her hands into fists, jittering in anticipation.

"_ Let's see... should you go to the house you are best served to or the house best served to you? _"

Hermione doesn't know, she isn't quite sure what the difference is. She knows there's a difference, she can tell quite clearly, but she just can't conceptualize it.

"_ I see... I see... In that case - better be _GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word is shouted out so the whole hall hears it - bouncing and reverberating under the high enchanted ceiling.

The Sorting Hat is removed from Hermione's head of curly, curly hair and she joins the loudly cheering table of students adorned in their black and red robes to the far right of the Hall. She's well aware that she's getting the loudest cheer yet, as well as the fact that the Weasley twins, who she had met on the train, arechanting, "We got Granger! We got Granger!"

One of the Gryffindor Prefects, Percy Weasley, vigorously shakes her hand as she sits next to him. He welcomes her to the house and the applause is only quieted by a harsh look from Professor McGonagall.

As she continues to read out the list of names, Hermione takes the opportunity to look around. Of course, she stares at the ceiling for quite a while - it's enchanted to look like the night sky and the lack of light pollution makes the stars shine beautifully.

She looks away when Neville is being Sorted. It takes him quite a while, but eventually the hat is yelling, "GRYFFINDOR!" and he's happily stumbling over to the table, newly retrieve toad in hand.

Hermione goes back to looking around when he sits.

Just as the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall is lit by floating candles that really shouldn't be able to illuminate the whole Hall as brightly as they do. There are tapestries hung up above each table signifying their houses - a red and gold lion for Gryffindor, a yellow and black badger for Hufflepuff, a blue and bronze eagle for Ravenclaw and a green and silver snake for Slytherin.

Ghosts are floating through the Hall, talking amongst themselves and the students. One is sitting not too far from Hermione, actually.

Then, Hermione notices a girl -one of the first years yet to be Sorted- is staring up at the ceiling, smiling gently. Her hair is dark, short and straight as can be and then she's walking forward and has the Sorting Hat placed firmly on her head. She goes into Slytherin almost immediately.

When the Sorting Ceremony come to an end, Professor Dumbledore, who looks very much like a stereotypical wizard -long white hair, eccentric robes, etc- stands and raises his arms. He says a short, but very odd welcome speech before sitting back down.

The empty plates lining the table immediately fill with food instantaneously and Hermione finds herself in a conversation with Percy Weasley about the teachers.

"At the end nearest us is Hagrid," he explains, "he's not a teacher, but he's still a member of the staff so don't go disrespecting him - not that I think you would, you strike me as a very responsible individual. Then there's Professor Sprout, she's the Head of Hufflepuff House and teaches Herbology. And next to her is Professor Quirrell, he used to teach Muggle Studies but he took last year off to study Defence Against the Dark Arts abroad in person so now that's what he teaches. And beside him is Professor Snape, he teaches Potions and - are you alright?"

While he was talking about Professor Snape, the man had turned to return Hermione's gaze and, almost as soon as his dark eyes made contact, a blaring pain shoots through her scar that causes her to wince and drop her fork.

"Yeah - Yes, I'm fine," she says. "Just a bit of a headache - long day and all."

"I can take you to see Madam Pomfrey after the feast if you like. She has some excellent potions for headaches and the like."

"No, that's not necessary," Hermione assures him.

Seemingly assured by this, Percy continues down the line of teachers and the topic of conversation eventually turns to what's taught in each subject and what Hermione is looking forward to most(Astronomy, but Transfiguration is a close second).

"I wish first years could try for the quidditch team," Hermione hears Parvati Patil saying at one point. "Mum says I'd make a world class Seeker."

"It's really for the best that first years aren't allowed to join the quidditch teams," Percy tells her. "It allows for you to become more acquainted with the school and focus on your studies without worrying about practices and games. It's also safer that way."

Parvati huffs and says, "I'd still like to join the team."

Hermione asks what quidditch is exactly, because she's heard the term thrown about but hasn't actually figured out what it is. This simple question, however, causes a ruckus from both Parvati and Fay Dunbar. Lavender Brown sighs and says, "Now you've done it," just as Parvati and Fay leap into a spirited explanation of quidditch - which she learns is a sport played on broomsticks. They of course say much more than that, but it's really quite hard to keep up with all they're saying.

The food all disappears at the end of the meal and Professor Dumbledore rises to his feet once more to announce some much less barmy things such as staying out of the Forbidden Forest, when quidditch tryouts are being held and an odd warning to stay out of the third floor corridor.

A Prefect from each house -in the case of the Gryffindors, Percy- rounds up their first years and takes them on a tour of the castle that culminates in their respective houses.

Gryffindor's common room is behind a painting of a woman in a pink silk dress, to which the password is _Caput Draconis _. It's up in one of the towers and Hermione is quite ready to collapse into bed by the time they've climbed all the staircases.

Hermione falls asleep the instant her head hits the pillow of her new bed.


	2. soulmates

**02\. soulmates**

For as long as she can remember, Pansy Parkinson has drawn on herself and always written words, any random words she likes, on her arms and legs. It hurts, of course, she's using a quill after all, but it's a distraction and it's nice.

It distracts from her father's harsh words and her mother's methods of displaying dissatisfaction and annoyance and anger.

And then, one day as she's staring at a great bruise on her thigh which her parents hadn't gotten the chance to heal yet, she sees a beautiful pattern beginning to draw itself - it's a galaxy.

And the galaxies keep coming. For every bruise is a galaxy that stays longer than the bruises themselves and always angers her parents whenever they see them. They think she's drawing them on herself. They tell her to "cut that shit out" and scourgify her until she's raw and the last marks are gone.

But she loves the galaxies nonetheless.

Slowly, as her parents become busier and busier, the bruises and wounds only show in places that her robes always cover. She begins to wonder where the galaxies come from.

So Pansy takes a quill, pulls up her sleeve and writes _who are you?_

The response is quick and she watches as it writes itself out.

_You responded! I'm - -! We're_ -there's a pause here until-_ soulmates._

Soulmates?

_soulmates?_ Pansy writes.

As the person -her soulmate- explains she can't help but listen.

Pansy never tells anyone about this, especially not her parents who no longer heal her or her friends, who are only her friends because their parents are friends and would undoubtedly make fun of her or use the information for some sort of blackmail, even at the young age of nine.

Pansy learns many things from her soulmate, who she's sure is a muggle. She learns mostly about space, which she takes quite the interest in. They tell her that people have been on the moon and all about space stations and satellites and rockets.

They can't tell each other their names for some reason, so Pansy tells her -because she knows she's a girl by now- to call her Peony because she quite likes the flower and her soulmate tells her to call her Matilda.

Matilda keeps Pansy updated on everything and Pansy does the same, though it's all highly edited to avoid revealing magic.

She considers running away many times. She knows Matilda is in Oxford. How big could the city be? And even if she doesn't find Matilda she'll be away, won't she?

But she doesn't leave.

She stays put and hates herself and immerses herself in the stars. She reads every book she can get her hands on and asks Matilda questions and draws and draws and draws.

When her parents find her drawing they get mad. Art is an unbefitting hobby for a Parkinson. Art is messy and imprecise and for the layman to partake in. They push her into Arithmancy and Transfiguration and potion making.

She tries to get them to let her learn Divination and Astronomy and ancient magic. But Divination is fake and Astronomy is useless and ancient magic is dead.

Pansy asks Matilda what she uses to write - she says felt tip pens and markers. Pansy tries to tell her where she lives because the muggle mail might get to her somehow, but that only comes out as smudged as their names. She wishes she had markers but all she has are fancy ink and fancier quills that hurt as she digs into her skin and sting and take twice as long to wash off.

Pansy wonders what Matilda's home life is like. Is it good? Part of her hopes it is - another part hopes it isn't. Does Matilda love her parents? Do her parents love her? Pansy is torn. She wants Matilda to have a nice life, but why does she deserve a better one than her?

She can't wait to start school, though she knows that won't bring about the freedom she desires. She knows her friend group too well - a bunch of spies trying to get the best of each other at all costs. They're a deceptive, manipulative group from birth and they all know it.

By the time her Hogwarts letter does arrive, Pansy has banished any thoughts that she might be able to get into a different house and be rid of her friends for the most part. She knows that she must go to Slytherin otherwise her parents will be mad and disappointed and ashamed.

So she enters the Great Hall knowing where she must go. She keeps herself stiff and mimics her friends attitudes and personalities as she always has. The only lapse of her character is when she sees the ceiling.

A perfect view of the night sky.

Stars everywhere.

It's beautiful.

And then she's called up to be Sorted and she starts up a chant of '_Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin_' in her head. It must be Slytherin. It has to be.

And the Sorting Hat yells, "SLYTHERIN!" before it's even fully on her head.

She sits beside Draco, near the house ghost, the Bloody Baron. Draco is doing a poor job at concealing his discomfort at sitting so near him, Pansy doesn't see what all the fuss is about.

She only half listens to Dumbledore at best, as well as the conversations happening around her.

And then she feels a sharp, concentrated pain in her forehead, which she grits her teeth through and shows no sign of.

The pain leaves as suddenly as it happens and no one knows the difference.

* * *

People are staring. People seem to always be staring and Hermione really doesn't like it. She can hear whispers following her and feel people watching her. They queue outside classrooms and stand on tiptoe to get a look at her or double back to pass her in the corridors, always staring and whispering.

Otherwise, everything is pretty great - she loves the classes straight away, they're all incredibly interesting, even History of Magic, which everyone else seems endlessly bored by. The castle itself is just as wonderful as her first impression of it was. She has two favourite rooms in the building - the Great Hall and the library.

Don't get Hermione started on the library.

It's by far the best library she's ever been it. It's massive with far more books than she could ever hope to count about all sorts of topics. Every moment she can, she's in the library, reading and studying and scouring through the books for any new bits of information she can find. It's all quite fascinating and Hermione is dead set on learning as much as she possibly can.

The first class is Charms with tiny Professor Flitwick, who has to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of the lesson he takes the register and when he reaches Hermione's name he gives an excited squeak and topples out of sight.

Then there's Transfiguration, which starts with Professor McGonagall sternly telling them, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She changes her desk into a pig and back again and Hermione is dazzled and continues to be as she takes pages of complex notes that she can't wait to revisit.

History of Magic is rather dry, as anything would be from a dull, monotone ghost, but the information really is fascinating. Hermione doesn't understand how anyone could sleep through the class.

Defence Against the Dark Arts seems to be the class most people are excited for, but it ends up being a bit disappointing, even to Hermione. She hates to speak ill of her teachers, but Professor Quirrell doesn't seem fit for teaching. He seems practically terrified of every little thing, including his own lesson plan. There's also the distinct scent of garlic following him everywhere, which is quite unpleasant.

Hermione loves Astronomy, which meets at midnight on wednesdays. It's all about learning the names of different stars and the movements of the planets and it's simply fascinating.

Herbology... isn't Hermione's favourite class. She can't say she likes all the dirt and fungi, but the theory is interesting and Professor Sprout is nice.

* * *

Pansy can't say she likes any of her classes except Astronomy. Though, she does wish that that class talked about rockets and astronauts.

Unfortunately, she has very little time to talk with Matilda and she seems to be having similar problems. It makes Pansy sad that the only times she's able to talk to her is when she's huddled over homework. There's the History of Magic class, that's perfect for it because no one is paying attention to anything, but Matilda seems to be busy then.

_in history - very boooored_, she writes to Matilda and she doesn't respond until lunch.

_Oh no! :( My History class is very interesting, I wish yours was too! Maybe it'll get better?_

Pansy can't respond until she's hunched over her Transfiguration essay.

_somehow i doubt it. the professor is SO dull. im glad your class is good! i really li_

Daphne Greengrass asks her for help with her essay and Pansy forgets to finish her message until the morning.

_?_ Matilda had written.

_oops sorry_, Pansy says,_ got distracted. i was going to say that i have an astronomy class that i really like. its probably the only enjoyable class._

She finishes off the message with a few little doodles of stars and planets to pass the time before breakfast.

The first class of the day is double Potions with the Gryffindors. Pansy arrives fairly early, but most of the Slytherins do as well. She sits beside Draco and gets her textbook, parchment, quill and ink out.

There's a handful of Gryffindors already there as well and the rest of the students slowly trickle in from breakfast until the bell rings and Snape, at the front of the room, stands and immediately begins taking the register.

He pauses when he gets to the name that stood out at the night of the Welcoming Feast and that's been whispered through the halls all week.

"Ah, yes," he says softly, "Hermione Granger. Out new - celebrity."

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle snicker, Pansy rolls her eyes and begins lazily drawing stars in the corner of her parchment.

Snape finishes calling names and says, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." His voice is low, barely more than a whisper, but everyone can hear him quite clearly. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death 0if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence follows the speech, most everyone is listening intently, Draco is leaning forward in his seat. Pansy, listening just as closely, idly spins her quill between her fingers.

"Granger!" Snape snaps. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"The Draught of Living Death," she answers promptly, "a sleeping potion so potent that it causes a death-like slumber."

Snape's lip curls and his eyes narrow. "If you can tell me that, can you tell me where one finds a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat, sir."

"And what, Granger, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant, sir. Also called aconite."

Snape is clearly seething as he turns on the rest of the class and says, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" Pansy sees him say something to Granger under the sound of the unzipping bags and rifling potions that has Granger scowling and dark-cheeked afterwards.

The rest of the class is spent brewing a simple cure for boils. It's mind numbingly easy, Pansy has been brewing potions since she could walk. She laughs along with Draco when Neville Longbottom nearly blows up his cauldron.

Snape seems to have two favourite targets - Hermione Granger and the surprisingly Slytherin Harry Potter. He doesn't hesitate to take points off of Granger or any other Gryffindor, and he snarls at Potter until he finds an excuse to give him detention and Snape looks unusually pleased.

"Snape really seems to hate Potter, doesn't he," Draco sneers. "Not that I blame him."

"Yeah, wonder what's up with that," Pansy replies, absentmindedly stirring her potion.

Draco shrugs. "His parents are like if the Weasleys had money, aren't they? That's probably why. The whole lot's insufferable."

"Hm."

* * *

Hermione spends quite a lot of time in the library. As such, she doesn't really make any friends. She supposes she's friends with Neville, but he doesn't go to the library very often and, as such, doesn't spend much time with Hermione outside of classes.

Other than him, it's just Hermione, her books and Peony whenever she can manage to write. She thinks she's able to write more often than Peony is, since she's usually sitting at a table by herself. Peony probably has friends she spends time with.

Hermione turns the page of her book and adds on another few sentences to her Potions essay.

Someone shifts a nearby chair and she looks up. It's one of the Slytherins, Potter, she thinks, he's looking awkward and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Er, is that Potions and Brews by Lucretia Letter?" he asks.

Hermione nods. "Yes, it is. Do you need it?"

"Kind of, yeah. There aren't any more copies of it available and I need it to finish that essay for Potions."

"Well, I'm almost done with it," Hermione says. "Go ahead and sit." She feels the usual stinging that accompanies Peony's words and her hand twitches, accidentally leaving a splotch of ink on her parchment. She frowns at it.

"Oh, I know a spell that pulls the ink from the paper," Potter says. "Just tap the spot and say deleo."

Hermione does as he says and the puddle of ink disappears immediately. "Thanks," she says. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Harry Potter," the boy supplies as he pulls out the chair in front of him and sits down. "Er, sorry, but d'you really have a-" he taps his forehead.

Hermione moves her hair off of her face to reveal her lightning shaped scar and then lets it fall back into place.

Harry looks awkward as he nods and mumbles, "Sorry, probably shouldn't have asked that."

Hermione shrugs. "It's fine."

They end up finishing up for the night around the same time and, as they're putting their things away, Harry says, "Have you heard about that Gringotts break in?"

Hermione frowns and shakes her head. She thought Gringotts was supposed to be impenetrable?

"No, I haven't," she says.

"It's weird. Nothing was stolen and the vault had been emptied the same day."

"That is _weird_," Hermione agrees.

"Right?"

Hermione isn't entirely sure why he's talking to her about this, but it certainly is bizarre.

She finishes packing her things away and she and Harry part ways at the door.


End file.
